Sailors' Pets

"Wh-what cards?" The grey-furred and black striped gheni stuttered back at the salt-and-pepper-haired swenik sitting on a well-stuffed pack just so his elbows could rest on the round card table that had seen more than its fair share of tavern brawls.   The swenik, a seasoned three-foot-tall man who was the bosun of the little schooner Sea Clipper, looked up into the dock tavern's rafters at a parrot who lifted a foot and showed him two toes before going back to preening its feathers. Narrowing his eyes, the swenik glared into the gheni's cat eyes. "Two cards up your left sleeve."   The gheni leapt up with a toss of his mane, his chair clattering over. "How dare you accuse me of cheating, you squinty-eyed little-" His words were cut off when a man with an anchor tattoo grabbed his left arm.   With a hook that served as a hand, the man ripped the sleeve down to the elbow. Two cards fell to the floor. "Little man's right, you're a cheater!"   The gheni pulled his arm free and raced for the door. Two more swenik, part of the Sea Clipper's crew, tripped the gheni then rolled under tables to avoid the stampede of angry card players that descended upon the cheater.   As a brawl ensued, the swenik bosun swept his coins and those of the cheating gheni into his pouch. "Time to go!" he called out, then praised the parrot once it landed on his shoulder. "Well, done, Iago."

  Pets are wonderful companions, but most eventually notice that a sailor's pet tends to be a bit... more. These little creatures exhibit an incredible intelligence that puts them very near that of a spellcaster's familiar, but without the obvious magic. How is this possible? Why does it happen to sailors' pets?   Petmanship aboard a ship is difficult, as there are limits to food, water, and living space even for the sailors themselves, not just their pets. There is a debate that perhaps it's 'because of' rather than 'in spite of' these challenges that have brought about the extraordinary nature of sailors' pets. Whatever the mysterious factor is, the truth cannot be denied: sailors and their pets share a social bond so strong that the pets become intelligent, and the sailors who have them become more dynamic.   What has been discovered is that both the sailor and their pet build a close bond. Over time, this bond grows and leads to things like parrots with such an extraordinary vocabulary that it feels like real conversations rather than the expected mimicry. Pets with manipulative paws, like monkeys and raccoons, have been caught forming signs in the silent pirate code. Other animals find other ways to communicate that prove their highly intelligent comprehension of languages.   The sailors, too, seem to be smarter and far more insightful once they have a pet. Tales of their clever exploits and crafty solutions in dire situations flow as steadily as the rum. Fame, or infamy, surrounds them, and more than one sailor and pet pair has become legendary.   This all begs the question of how. Many scholars, captains, and even some clerics have pondered this. Most have slowly come to the same conclusion. The shared bond between sailor and pet produces love. They both then grow a shared cleverness by feeding on the power of love.